Baros
The shamble-goblin's head caves in as the shaft of your spear strikes it. It does not get up.
HUIVD
You hear Grommok's Breathing steady, and the bleeding has clotted. he's not Well, but he'll live, left to his own devices.
Silas
The skeleton is less lucky this time, the backswing of your axe takes it's right hand, Radius, and Ulna with it, and they shatter against a table.
Manly lover of Swine!
Decitful and frigid little-
It would seem the Androgynous voice interjects.
That the issue is to be tabled. Fortunately The chilling voice finishes
He's a strong boy. He'll find his way to me. the tenor says
Or perhaps the aloof voice replies He will develop some sense, and hone his considerable talent.
Rusko's shocked by the explosive nature of the chair, so much so he can do nothing but try to avoid the creatures.
Emboldened by the other's continued battle for survival, he grabs another piece of furniture and swings hard...
The Skeleton keeps trying to attack Silas, dirty phalanges raking at him. and gets him in the neck
And over at the other corner, The Shamble-Woman tries to slay Rusco, pounding on him with rotting fists. cracking bones under her blows. . And the Zombie goes to Bite him and for and Finds something important, as Rusco goes limp.
Gelda rushes over as Rusco falls, shouting Gerrof 'im and bringing the hammer down on the Zombie , Misisng and putting a new hole in the floor.
The Shamble-woman and zombie both try to take a shot at HUIVD as he runs.
but both bounce off the armour of the mechanical wonder-dog...
Hund watched as the two shamblemen attacked the orc. It was strange, such a giant of a man shouldn't have fallen so quickly. He had fought many orcs in his time and they were always tough opponents. He expected the orc to be the last to fall.
He was torn. Save the orc - arguably their best warrior, or help those still fighting. He made a snap judgment...
... and charged the zombie fighting Silas.
He leaped into the air at the last moment and slammed his body into the thing, landing hard on it.
The sharp claw of the skeleton rips into his neck and he could almost feel it aiming for that pulsing vein within. With a fearful, angry look in his eyes, Silas did all that he could to throw the thing off of him. His vision swam for a moment as he stumbled back, putting his hand on his neck and feeling the heat of fresh blood spill downwards.
"N..no. I didn't...escape...just...to f!++ing die here!" Silas screams just as Hund crashes into the skeleton and knocks it down to the ground. With a roar, Silas lifts the axe up over his head and aims to bring it down onto the undead.
As he goes to bring the axe down, some of the muscles in his neck pull and send shooting pain through his body. The unexpected pain jolts him as he swings wildly, missing the target beneath him.
HUIVD
You strike the old bones, cracking some as the skeleton falls to the floor. But you watch as Silas utterly fails to get a hit in, though perhaps the floorboards deserved it...
Everything fades, and you are in a dark room. The sound of snoring, loud and rythmic, fills the air around you. up above you, a pair of brilliant blue-teal eyes, framed by brilliant orange locks. Hello, little one. she says, voice pitched low and cooing.
Rusko blinks, looking about for the shamblemen, then starts as the creature...entity...addresses him.
"Um...er...ah...Hello?" he stammers.
Baros charges in attacking the creature set to the floor by Hund.
Baros
You vault with your spear over the table, and land on the Prone skeleton, shattering bone, and putting the thing down. only two remain of them, though only three remain of you.
Everyone
You watch Rusco turn into something akin to a scarecrow, formed of sticks and straw, wearing the now-ill-fitting clothes he wore moments ago.
NPC slow turn
The shamble-woman goes to the closest living being, Gelda, and tries to kill her, dead hands darting for her face , but gelda bats away the hands before they find her eyes.
The zombie, however, will lurch forward past Gelda, and put on surprising speed as it goes for Baros. . Baros smells the rot coming off the thing, sees the jagged, yellow and crimson teeth, and manages to avoid them... this time.
Gelda takes a swing at the Shamble-woman, bringing the hammer down over her head with... less than perfect form.
And she brings it, hammer swinging through the air, , making a crack that sounds out throughout the bar.
Hund immediately turns to the next one and pounces, knocking it to the ground as a set up for Baros to spear it. Teamwork is how they will prevail.
Silas grunts and gives a nod of thanks as the halfling brings the spear down upon the skeletal undead and finishes it off. His whole body aches but there were more undead left to deal with now. One of them came hurtling past Gelda, claws and teeth reaching out for the halfling before just managing to miss them.
"Oh no you don't!" Silas growls, fighting through the pain and taking a swing at the enemy beside them. Gelda and the freshly transformed changeling will have to wait. He'll process that piece of work later. Hund slammed into the undead, knocking it over once more. The axe would come crashing down, hopefully hitting deep within the undead.
Taking advantage of the opportunity provided by Hund, Baros attacks the prone foe.
Baros continues his savagery landing another blow.
Baros, HUIVD, and Silas
HIUVD knocks the robed zombie to the floor, and Silas chops it's arm off, But BAros gets the kill, ramming the spear through its sunked eyes, and out through the back of it's skull, splattering half-rotten brains over the floorboards
by the door, the shamblewoman and Gelda strike at eachother.
The corpsegrabs her and sinks rotted teeth into her forearm, but Gelda pushes her off, and brings the hammer down, breaking the last Shambler's body. The Inn is free of the walking dead once again...
Oh, dear, no. you're home now. this is your home. she says, drawing a nail that is cold as ice and sharp as glass over your skin, gentle enough that it is almost comforting. Almost. then you feel a warm bit of fabric placed over you. You're a lively one the voice giggles. Maybe we'll meet again. If you're strong enough.
Baros takes his spear and gives each of the undead one last stab to the head insuring the stay down - he hopes. Stopping at Mok's body he sees his chest rising and falling as he still breathed, "he still has some breath, but I am not sure about that one," he says pointing at the collapsed scarecrow that used to be an orc.
Baros then goes on a looting spree stripping anything that might look useful from the undead.
Feeling himself growing heavier and heavier, and the voices becoming weaker and weaker, the young orc finally realizes who the voices were and what must have happened.
"Thank you god and goddesses of old. I am in your debt...but not you Old Nock! You're the reason I came here!"
"Home? Rusko mutters, a foreign concept...hmm, it must have all been a dream. He snuggles down into the warmth of the fabric, muttering, "I'm strong....meet again...."
Baros finds a half-rotted book, and a rod of blackthorn carved with sigildry in the folds of the zombie's robe,a dn adds it to the pile, along with the set of soft leathers, in need of washing, and shield "donated" by the fallen guard, and adds them to the pile, which I will summarise to remind us all
-A sickle
-An axe
-A bow, cloak, and quiver
-A spear and Soft leather armour
-A rotted Grimoire/Book of Shadows and a blackthorn wand
-A set of soft leather armour and a shield
Hund moves over to Mok, nudging the orc with his snout. When the big lug doesn't wake up, the clockwork hound lays down next to him, waiting for the orc to wake up.
Silas looks over the chaos of the battle as the spear pierces through the zombie's head. Before he could move again, Gelda knocks the undead down and smashes its head open with that maul. There was almost a moment of silence in the room if it wasn't for the moans of the undead outside constantly pounding trying to get inside.
"Right. No more f!*$ing breaks." Silas grumbled, making his way over towards where Mok laid. He knelt down beside Hund, watching the orc's chest rise and fall just like the halfling said. "We're going to move him somewhere more central. I'll take over for him." Trying his best to find somewhere safe in this besieged tavern seemed impossible. He would do his best, trying to give the orc and the changeling shelter. The strange, scarecrow-like creature sent a shiver down his spine but he did try to remember that it was trying to help them survive as well.
Silas would grab the shield and set it down alongside the axe as he took out his dagger and tried to mimic and remember what it was that Mok was doing. His captor should've f*$$ing taught him how to read, the a*!@$&$. He would've been a more interesting quarry then.
"Bester, you help me. Anada, help Baros however you can. Gelda, stick with Hund and make sure no more come in. We can't handle another attack like that." Silas's shirt was stained with blood and he was breathing hard. Yet out of everyone, he felt like he was doing the best between them all. Pulling out his own dagger, he would begin to whisper the words in Elven as best as he could and follow Mok's design to keep them safe for just a bit longer.
Hund hops up at the command. He watches Mok get dragged away with trepidation, though such emotions do not show on his metal face.
He trots over to the rotted book and picks it up with his mouth, taking it over to Mok and laying it on the young orc. If he knew how to read, he would try some desperate attempt at fixing his friend. But he know Mok could read, and he hoped whatever power was inside that book would transfer to his friend and make him ok again.
Afterwards, he walks to Silas and nudges him. Looking intently at the new stick and straw man, he speaks in his deep voice, Never see orc do that. It may have sounded like a statement, but it was intended to be a question.
As an experienced wilderness guide Baros was familiar with treating injuries, although he typically tried to avoid combat altogether. Using his rudimentary skills he attempts to stabilize his fallen ally. "Well never done this on a bundle of sticks and straw before but lets see."
Baros tries to apply bandages and such but the changeling anatomy is too foreign too him.
Silas sat where Mok once was, looking over the strange text and rituals upon the group. Taking the dagger, he would run it along his palm. The blood was spilled as he improvised the ritual, following the advice of the dead priest's ghost to try and and guide it.
Ruscos breath still comes, hard and heavy, as his strange white-boue blood spills onto the ground, sizzling every time it finds a nail in the floor.
Rusco, the vision ends, and all goes black
Baros continues his efforts to save Rusco.
Hund paces around Rusko, staring at him intently with the hopes that it will somehow miraculously work. That's how those priests always did it, after all. Although he never really paid attention all that much.
Silas joins the others around the dying changeling, grabbing a bottle of strong alcohol and pouring it into the wound to hopefully clean it. He grabs a nearby rag that doesn't look to dirty and applies it to Rusko's form, trying to stem the flood of blood.
Silas manages to stauch the bleeding, and ruscos breath stabilises as his glowing witch-eyes open.
Rusco awakes with the feeling of grain alcohol on their barely closed wounds
One might have found the battle with the undead draining but Baros some how found it invigorating, somewhat upsettingly so but survival is nothing to feel sorry for. He dons a set of soft leather armor over his blood soaked clothes and gets back fortifying defenses with assistance from Anada.
Board by board and nail by nail they repaired where the undead broke through.
Hund walks the inside parameter of the room, snipping at anything that tries to get in.
Despite the wound in his neck, Silas was feeling energized. It was either his close opportunity to meet with Father Death or the alcohol that was still burning in his stomach, but the fatigue of the last few hours seemed to be gone.
"Right. No more f%++ing breaks." Silas grumbled, making his way over towards where Mok had laid beside the assembled ritual pieces
Silas would grab the shield and set it down alongside the axe as he took out his dagger and tried to mimic and remember what it was that Mok was doing. His captor should've f+#@ing taught him how to read, the a$#!$$#. He would've been a more interesting quarry then.
"Bester, you help me. Anada, help Baros however you can. Gelda, get Mok up and moving again if you can." Silas's shirt was stained with blood and he was breathing hard. Yet out of everyone, he felt like he was doing the best between them all. Pulling out his own dagger, he would begin to whisper the words in Elven as best as he could and follow Mok's design to keep them safe for just a bit longer. Cutting his palm, he would try to focus on the ritual and the words the ghost offered but the pain was too distracting. A sense of admiration rose at the young orc's focus. If they all got out of this alive, he would need to get him a drink.
Will Challenge:
Still unconscious, the young orc begins to mumble as his muscles jerk and spasm.
Mok
The magic dances in your head, but as you wake (with damage healed), it doesn't quite stick around.
Rusco
Rusko shakes his head and rises, not yet realizing his 'body' had reverted to his unnatural form.
He spies a spear in a pile of gear nearby, grabs it and attempts to beat back the assailing undead...
When Rusko begins helping with defenses Baros looks at him for a short time before coughing *ahem at the strange looking creature.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
the dim purple of dawning is on the horizon as the undead surge forth once more. and three manage to force the door open before Gelda gets the door closed. one wears the emblem of a templar of the New God, small shield strapped to his arm, empty sheathe at his side, another is clearly a farmer, probably another victim of the evening, throat cut ear to ear. and a third is a faun, also newly deceased.
"Dammit," Baros lets out with a sigh before Rusko can respond. The dead had once again breached the defenses. Baros grabs the bow and quiver fro. The gear pile and draws and looses an arrow at the undead fawn.
Silas will stand up from where he was as the undead batter the front door, abandoning the ritual for the time being before grabbing his shield and axe off of the ground. Three more of the unholy abominations make their way into the room and Silas lets out a tired growl of irritation.
"I can't take much more of this. We might just all die here." It was that panic that welled up inside of him, twisting like a knife in his gut as he readied himself for the first undead to approach him.
Rusko looks aside at the halfling called Baros when he makes his Ahem noise. He looks down at his arms holding the spear, then down at his body. His shoulders slump a little as he sees the sticks and twine and other brick-a-brak and flotsam that actually make up his body.
He had a thought to take on a more conventional shape , at least for the comfort of his fellow comrades in survival, but the arrival of new shamble-people force him to delay that idea.
With a shrug, he gives Baros an apologetic look ( well, as apologetic as a conglomeration of sticks and stones can get ) the jabs his spear at the nearest undead...
Hund bristles as a strange entity speaks voices and empowers him with primal magic beyond his understanding. Claws form on his hands and feet. Fangs grow from his teeth. Metallic hairs for on his metal frame. A glint in his eyes reveals that for the first time in years, he feels complete, whole.
He charges.
Seeing the creatures burst through the door, Mok looks to the faltering ritual and realizes it is too late to try and restart it. Gripping his club he staggers towards the nearest zombie and takes a mighty swing at the creature's head.
Attack:
Damage:
Fast turn
Baros' arrow narrowly misses the Faun's skull, and it groans as it begins to move forward
Slow turn
Rusco darts forward, and jabs at the farmer, but hitting bone too quickly to cause meaningful damage.
HUIVD transforms and leaps between the templar and the Farmer, ready to support his allies.
and Mok takes his zombie-smushin' club and bashes the Templar upside the head, sending it reeling and a spray of black blood flies.
The farmer takes a swing at Rusco in retaliation
Menawhile, the wounded templar will reach out and try to wrap dead hands around Mok's throat but will entirely miss
The faun will shamble toward Baros, passing by Silas on the way, and taking 2 damage and try kick Baros and it connects hard, Baros feels the wind leave his lungs